--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Larsen, Louis W. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 20 number: 9 published: 1917-07 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Louis W. Larsen, "Tribute to the Pioneers," *Improvement Era* 20, no. 9 (July 1917): 808–809.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2009unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera2009unse start_page: 808 end_page: 809 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1917-07) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2009unse publication_year: 1917 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1917, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Tribute to the Pioneers Tribute to the Pioneers Hail to the valiant-hearted pioneers, Who set their faces toward the sinking sun, And saw, though dimly, through their galling tears, The perils of a battle yet unwon. Those men of iron will who never quailed, Those gentle mothers bound to them by love, Firm-rooted in a trust that never failed, They came all trusting in the God above. The eye of faith had seen the chosen place, Far sep'rate from the hard oppressor's hand. They came like harassed Israelites of old, To find sweet refuge in a promised land. They scorned the vast unknown that lay before, The perils of a desert unexplored ; With fortitude their heavy cross they bore, They came, stout hearts, and fear of death abhorred. To leave behind the mob with all its crime, And find a place where they could breathe free air, They'd venture all to find that happy clime, And thither go, it mattered little where. No fiery pillar led their steps by night, No cloud to guide their wandering feet by day; A pilot blessed with clear, prophetic sight Led Israel unerring in their way. The time tolled off by many weary days, They left behind unnumbered leagues of plain, They crossed the burning sands by devious ways, And scaled the rugged hills their heights to gain. The unbridged stream that interposed its course Would not suffice to daunt these fearless men, They forded where it ran with turbid force, Then took their weary, westward march again. No manna fell to check the gnawing pain Of hunger; like a monster he did stalk About the camp, and never water came To slake their thirst from out the smitten rock. These modern exiles walked by living faith, They cried not out to see the hand of God; Fnough for them to know he held their fate; They bowed, and passed beneath the heavy rod. Some, uninured,, grew faint beneath the load, And sank down lifeless on the cruel ground; They laid them down to sleep beside the road, And left to tell each fate one loneb' mound. TRIBUTE TO THE PIONEERS 809 They bore it all with wondrous fortitude, Cheered by hope that's born of faith sublime ; They strove for other generations' good, And left their impress on the reign of time. When night fell, they would gather round the fire, And all the day's adventures laughing tell, Then in one mighty chorus rising higher, They sung out to the wild waste, "All is well." At length they came upon the chosen place, A decimated, weary, heart-sick band, And when they looked upon its barren face, They cried, "O God, is this the promised land? "Forbidding desolation everywhere, A desert place where savage red men roam, And hunt the wild beast in his native lair, — This uninviting place to be our home!" It was the place, for so the prophet said; He thrust his staff into the scanty sod, Then spoke these words with bowed, uncovered head, "Here shall we build a temple to our God." They girded up their loins, all plied their strength; The men they tilled the soil, the women spun. Low, meagre huts they builded them at length To shelter from the storm, or blazing sun. The crystal streams that ran their idle way Were turned aside upon the thirsting plain; There came to give them solace on that day, Slight proof that they had labored not in vain. Then followed years of unremitting toil; They battled with a thousand things adverse, Wresting from the dry, reluctant soil A bare enough to weather through the worst. But small things wrought in faith and hope and tears, Things consecrated to a noble end, Rise in their towering strength in after years, Whose magnitude there's none can comprehend. The pioneer camp becomes a thrifty town, Towns multiply and spread upon the land, They grow apace through all the country round, Then cities rear their towers, fair and grand. Now one more star gleams out upon the blue, Emblazoned there triumphant with the rest: She sheds her genial ray upon the true, She has no peer, the Glory of the West. All honor to those valiant pioneers Who set their faces towards the sinking sun, And saw, though dimly, through their galling tears, The laurels of a battle fought and won. Louis W . Larsen.